


Crumble

by carpelucem



Series: 2013 Ficlet Advent [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas wasn’t a big deal to Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumble

This year for Christmas, the team was together for the Stark holiday party, because Tony complained he was pulling all the weight and they needed to contribute (even though Steve knew it was because he just missed everyone, moped and watched The Hunger Games when Clint and Tasha were on missions).

Steve was reading in his room the day before the party, unwinding after a long workout session, not looking forward to Thor’s return to Asgard after the festivities. He needed some time to himself, to process that same ache in his chest that twinged when Thor’s departures grew near, and to mull over the particular melancholy the holidays seemed to drag over him.

Christmas wasn’t a big deal to Steve, they’d never had much money to go around for gifts, especially once the Depression hit. There were few years he even remembered clearly, a handful of traditions that meant enough to stick in his brain through all those years.

Steve had reread the same passage a half-dozen times when JARVIS politely requested his presence in the kitchens. Noting the time wasn’t anywhere near their regular Friday night pizza and movie night, Steve pulled a sweatshirt over his head and slipped into some shoes to make the trip upstairs.

“Everything ok?” Steve asked, wondering if urgency was necessary, but JARVIS just mentioned that Thor had asked for Steve, there was no reason to worry.

The smell hit Steve as he approached the kitchen, and the music came a moment later. His mouth dropped and he could barely believe the sight before him. Bing Crosby was singing White Christmas, and the Avengers were elbow deep in prep for what appeared to be Christmas cookies.

In the kitchen, the entire team was clustered around the island, Tasha perched on the edge, stirring something in a metal bowl. Bruce was leveling flour with precision into a measuring cup, Tony was complaining about the archaic tech of the Kitchen-Aid mixer as it creamed butter and sugar, Thor was trying to crack eggs gently into a glass dish, and Clint was whisking food coloring into what looked like royal icing.

“Guys?”

They all stopped what they were doing, looked over at Steve, before Clint dropped the whisk into his steel bowl with a clatter. It broke the silence and Tony waved Steve over, hollering across the space between them.

“Get over here, Thor couldn’t remember the secret ingredient you mentioned. Said something about you mumbling it into the pillow?”

Steve realized they meant his grandmother’s cookie recipe, and they’d assembled all the ingredients, gathered together to make and decorate his grandmother’s Christmas cookies.

It was maybe the nicest thing anyone had ever done for Steve, and he had no idea what to say to anyone.

Thor looked at Steve for a moment before his eyes darted away bashfully. He was blushing, the rat, and moved his eggs aside, making room for Steve at the counter. Still, his hand found the small of Steve’s back, resting carefully, cautiously, gauging Steve’s reaction. Steve relaxed against his touch, and he could see Thor’s relief and broad smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Black pepper,” Tasha offered, and Bruce wrinkled his nose at the suggestion, spooning baking soda into his cup.

“In cookies?”

“That’s Italian,” Tony interjected. “Cookbook of my grandmother’s had a black pepper shortbread with anise.” He shrugged and increased the speed on the mixer. “Cucina povera, they made do with what they had.”

“Orange or lemon extract?” Clint asked Steve, pushing smoothly away from the island and going to the pantry. “Those are both good in sugar dough, or candied ginger for spice.” He dug through the spice cabinet for a moment, looking back at Steve.

“Cinnamon. She put cinnamon in her Christmas cookies.” And in that moment, Steve could remember the smell of her kitchen, the warmth of the oven on a cold December day, how his fingers burned when he reached for one that hadn’t properly cooled yet. He could see her in his mind’s eye, so clearly, apron dusted with flour and a smile on her face, it was like a sucker punch to the gut.

Tasha was the one who slipped under his arm, right into Steve’s side. “You have to choose.” Her voice was strong, but Steve could hear a softness underneath that only showed itself when she was among the people in that room. She held out two shapes to him, a star in one hand, a tree in the other.

“Thor wanted hammers, but we said they had to be Christmas shapes,” Bruce dipped a finger into Clint’s icing bowl, just gave a murmur and nod of approval when Clint nudged him and shooed Bruce away.

“It’s Cap, so they have to be stars.” Tony was slowly sifting in Bruce’s carefully measured dry ingredients, caught Steve’s eye and just tilted his head, a familiar, fond smile quirking the edge of his mouth.

“I hope I have not betrayed your confidence,” Thor whispered, ducking in close. “You seemed to carry a weight these last few days, and we wanted to surprise you.”

Steve looked at the five faces of his teammates, eager to participate in his traditions, organizing all of their time simply to make him happy.

Selfless and lovely, it was the best Christmas gift he’d ever received.


End file.
